


We Grew Up To Catch Them

by JustJasper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-14
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Criminal Minds minifics, fills and drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. skype while one is away

**Author's Note:**

> Fill are mostly Morgan/Reid unless stated otherwise in the chapter title.
> 
> Since these go as far back as 2011, some of of the early grammar is not as good as later work, please forgive me.

“This is weird.”  
  
“How is this weird?” Morgan’s image on screen frowned.  
  
“I’m so used to talking to Garcia like this…” Reid trailed off, hands rather self consciously shielding his bare chest. He had long overcome awkwardness with nudity with the other man, but stripping in from of a webcam was a whole different thing. There was no reassuring warm hand to reach out to him, and even Morgan’s smile on the screen seemed somewhat artificial, created by pixels.  
  
“C’mon, baby,” Morgan chuckled. “Don’t you want to see my dick?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Reid spluttered, feeling himself blushing, “that was the intention of using the webcams, I just…”  
  
“Just?” the man prompted, leaning back in his chair, stretching out his arms behind his head. Reid was pretty sure that was deliberate, and couldn’t help tracing his eyes over the tense curve of Morgan’s muscles on the screen, really quite high quality all things considered, but nothing as good as being able to feel those strong muscles under smooth skin physically. When his eyes had scanned the plains of Morgan’s chest he could see that Morgan was grinning at him on the screen, a clear indication he knew exactly what he was doing. Reid feigned annoyance at being played so easily, narrowing his eyes even as he had to shift in seat.  
  
“Just take off your pants, Derek.”


	2. grain is explosive in powder form (hotch/reid)

“Did you know grain is explosive in powder form?” Reid said, not looking up from the bread dough he was kneading with his hands. Opposite him at the kitchen island, Jack looked up.  
  
“It can explode?” the six year old asked sceptically, glancing down at the sticky dough between his own fingers.  
  
“Under pressure, yes,” Reid continued, smiling good-naturedly at the boy. “Although it’s not quite as volatile as pistachio nuts, which are actually considered a dangerous good to transport because they’re explosive under-”  
  
“If you could not teach my son what common household items can explode,” Hotch said, thumping his own ball of dough down rather harder than was necessary on the floured surface, “that’d be great. We do not need a repeat of the last time Jack told his teacher ‘daddy’s friend was telling me about bombs’…”  
  
Reid grinned sheepishly, and Hotch didn’t even try to conceal the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Jack watched the look passing between the two adults and giggled quietly as he continued to squash the bread dough together, mimicking his father’s skilled hands.  
  
“Why don’t you tell him about the yeast,” Aaron offered. “Living bacteria is just as entertaining as explosives, and probably won’t mean I have to go in for a parent-teacher meeting.”  
  
“Yeast?” Jack piped up. “What’s yeast?”  
  
“Actually yeast isn’t strictly bacteria,” Reid started, “it’s a micro-organism classified as a fungi, and in bread dough it converts fermentable sugars-”  
  
Aaron smiled to himself as Spencer explained the science to his son, who was listening intently, hanging onto the other man’s every word.


	3. reid has a dragon

“Fuck you!” Morgan yelled.  
  
“Derek!” Spencer shouted, putting his head around the kitchen poor. “Don’t shout at her!”  
  
‘She’ narrowed her eyes at Morgan, and he was sure she was fixing him with a smug look, her dark green scales glimmered in the light, her long neck craning and wings flapping a little.  
  
“She bullies him.” Morgan huffed, and behind his legs Clooney whined.  
  
“She’s just playing.” Reid said, leaning in the doorway with his mug of coffee. “Aren’t you, Marie?”  
  
The dragon, which was only just smaller than Clooney, made a little high pitched sound at the recognition of Spencer’s tone, a noise that made the dog whimper again.  
  
“She plays with her teeth.” Derek pointed out, reaching down to stroke the canine.  
  
“She hasn’t ever hurt him.” Spencer pointed out.  
  
“Yet.”  
  
“She likes Clooney.” He reasoned, watching her stretch out in front of the fire, wings folded over her back.  
  
“He doesn’t like her.”  
  
Clooney chose that precise moment to pad out from behind Morgan’s legs and promptly go lay down next to the dragon, putting his snout right up against hers. Her amber eyes opened briefly, then closed again contently.  
  
Spencer gave Derek a look that was quietly smug, and he had to fight the urge to sulk. He didn’t win, throwing himself onto the sofa and crossing his arms over his chest in a huff.


	4. files (hotch/reid)

Plain sheets of paper, passed along with files, were signals.  
  
Pink was for affection, like the time when Hotch had consoled a husband grieving for his wife murdered by a serial killer. Pale blue was an invitation, a way to state that one wanted the other after the day was done. Goldenrod was a trigger for memories, a call to remember the last time they were together, a good meal or a night in front of the TV. Pale green didn’t appear much because it meant ‘you’re making me jealous’, and was usually sent by Hotch when Reid was being oblivious to someone flirting with him. Lavender would never be guessed as the colour for ‘I am angry with you’, but it had seen a lot of use when tension had pulled at the whole team after Emily’s death. White was for apologies, after harsh words or rejected affection in stolen moments.  
  
Secret signals kept their relationship safe.


	5. coffee (hotch/garcia)

“Coffee, black.”  
  
“Pffft.” Garcia pulled a face.   
  
“What?” Hotch glanced at her. The server behind the counter waited.  
  
“Boring.”  
  
“It’s what I like.”  
  
“It’s what you always have.”  
  
“Because I like it.”  
  
“How do you know if it’s the only thing you like,” Penelope teased, “if you’ve never tried anything else.”  
  
“Well,” he said amicably, “what do you suggest?”  
  
“Well,” she glanced around to make sure there wasn’t a queue forming behind them, “I’m having a half-caf, extra shot venti, two pump nonfat, no whip, caramel macchiato.”  
  
He blinked several times without saying anything, his eyebrows merely rising slowly up his face.   
  
“Coffee, black.” He repeated to the server, ignoring Garcia’s exaggerated sound of disappointment, knowing she was trying to get a rise out of him.  
  
Well, she thought, at least he was more amiable to trying other things.


	6. homemade pizza (reid/prentiss)

Reid had so much flour on his face he looked like a ghost. Emily tried not to laugh but a difficult feat when he looked so focused as he placed slices of pepperoni on the pizza base. He wasn’t the most organised person in the world, but he seemed to want to place the slices on in some kind of order, perhaps so the pizza would cook evenly. Emily, however, had no such qualms, as she topped her own base, one of the two they were making for their pizza party that evening. She threw on cheese and mushrooms on top of the sauce base with no thought for making it too even; to her, pizza didn’t need symmetry to be delicious. She was finished long before he was, and waited patiently, until he started adjusting slices on a perfectly good pizza.  
  
She passed the stove on her way across the kitchen, lifting the wooden spoon out of the pan with the now cold sauce in. She coughed deliberately, drawing his attention. She smiled coyly and closed the distance between them, touching the spoon to his mouth and leaving a stain of red-orange sauce. He frowned in confusion, but his tongue snaked out automatically to taste it on his lips.  
  
“It’s nice cold, too,” she said.  
  
“It is,” he agreed, smiling at her. She was still grinning as she trailed her finger over the spoon, and then held it aloft. He got the idea quicker than he once would have, leaning forward to take her finger into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around her more sensuously than simply collecting the sauce required, and she shuffled a little closer. He pulled off her finger slowly, meeting her gaze with quiet confidence.  
  
“Want another taste?” she said, offering the wooden spoon. He made to lean forward and taste straight from it, but she pulled it away from him, instead lowering the spoon to let it brush her exposed cleavage, smearing her skin with the red sauce. She knew he would acquiesce, because his eyes were now glued to her chest. His pink tongue darted between his lips as he dipped his head against her neck, lips trailing downwards.


	7. walking clooney

“Derek,” Spencer asked, squeezing the man’s hand as the other man launched a ball as far as he could, their canine companion racing across the grass, “do you think Clooney respects me?”  
  
“What?” Morgan couldn’t help laughing, turning a little towards his boyfriend, who was looking rather serious as he fiddled with the end of his purple scarf. Clooney raced back, offering the ball into Morgan’s waiting hand so he could throw it again.  
  
“It’s well documented that domestic dogs form pack structures with humans.” Reid said, his breath coming out in a cloud of steam in front of his face. “Do you think he respects me?”  
  
“Of course.” Morgan shrugged, watching Clooney race back towards them.  
  
“He respects you.” Reid said. “You’re the alpha, the pack leader. He knows you’re in charge, so he listens to you.”  
  
“Well,” Morgan said, taking the tennis ball from Clooney and handing it off to Reid, “let’s see.”  
  
Clooney’s attention immediately switched to Reid, wagging his tail and giving an excited bark. Spencer got the idea, and threw the ball, cringing at the minimal distance it covered compared to Morgan’s skilled throw. The dog raced back, but headed to Morgan. When Morgan didn’t offer his hand to take the ball Clooney nudged at him, and Derek squeezed Spencer’s hand. The slender man held out his hand, seeking the ball. Clooney ignored him, barking around the tennis ball in his mouth.  
  
“Give me the ball.” Spencer said.  
  
Clooney jumped back excitedly, and dropped the ball a few feet away.  
  
“Clooney.” Reid said, trying to sound authoritative.  
  
The dog barked, stretching out his front legs and wagging his tail.  
  
“Get him on the leash.” Morgan suggested, handing it to his partner. As soon as he did, Clooney parked. He backed away when Reid moved towards him, just out of the man’s reach.  
  
“Clooney.” Reid said, hoping the dog would pick up his inflection, his small plea for him to behave.  
  
The dog barked happily, and ran away across the field. Spencer wheeled around, huffing.  
  
“He doesn’t respect me.” he said, not appreciating the fact that Morgan was clearly fighting laughter. “He doesn’t recognise me as a high-ranking pack member. I’m not entirely sure how I can change that, you’d assume in pack structure that he’d recognise our connection and at least consider me the alpha ‘female’ by my connection to you, but-oomph!”  
  
Clooney, out of nowhere, knocked Reid right off his feet, and proceeded to lick excitedly at his face as he tried weakly to push him off.  
  
“Clooney!” he tried to shield himself from the dog’s affections, to little avail. “Morgan!” he tried instead. “Help me!”  
  
Unashamedly laughing now, Morgan picked up the leash and clipped it to the dog’s collar, pulling him to heel beside him and offering his free hand to help his lover up.  
  
“Maybe he doesn’t respect you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss the man’s cheek as his grumbled and brushed his coat down, “but he sure does love you.”


	8. cardigans are cool

Cardigans were cool.  
  
Or at least that was what Reid had assured him. Derek loved Spencer with all his heart, but he didn’t think he was the person to trust on deciding what was ‘cool’. That being said, he had noticed the rise of cardigans in men’s fashion, which often coincidentally made Reid appear fashion-conscious, when he really wasn’t.  
  
But Morgan hadn’t resisted when his partner had dragged him into a clothing store by their linked pinkies, towards a rack of button-downs. He felt he owed the other this; they had never tried massively to change the other’s style, but it was because of Derek that Spencer now owned a pair of jeans that hugged his ass in a way Garcia described as ‘barely PG13’. He usually only wore them in order to seduce Morgan, because he found them too restrictive and preferred to get them off as soon as possible.  
  
“Here.” Reid said, picking something off the rack and holding it up. Morgan frowned because it was beige; to his eyes Spencer was the only man in existence that could pull off beige. “No.” Reid nodded, reading the other’s expression and putting it back on the rack. “Okay.”  
  
Morgan slipped his phone out of his pocket just to check it for messages idly, sparing glances at the other man as he looking through the various cardigans. He didn’t miss it when Reid did a double-take on something he looked at, but then passed it by. Eventually he ended up back next to Morgan, smiling a little awkwardly.  
  
“I know you’ve spotted something you like.”  
  
Spencer’s tongue poked out against his lips.  
  
“Show me.” Morgan chuckled. The other man went around the rack again, returning with a dark earthy green cardigan, which had a lion printed on one side in a distressed gold. “Hey,” he nodded, taking the hanger and holding it under his chin, smoothing the garment over his chest, “I kinda like this one.”  
  
“It suits you.” Spencer said. “I like it when you wear green.”  
  
“You do?” Derek grinned as Spencer nodded sincerely.  
  
“Yeah, it looks good with your skintone, greens and browns are colours often found together in the natural world, and-”  
  
Morgan kissed him sweetly, a hand placed gently at the back of his neck. He drew back smiling at his lover, recalling the green underwear and socks he’d received from Spencer last Christmas.  
  
“I like it. Let’s get it.”


	9. college au

Spencer was not used to being stared at. He was used to being ignored and barged without even a muttered ‘sorry’ when it happened.  
  
Derek was used to lingering looks, but not ones that went along with whispers, and they’d never been hostile before.  
  
“They know.” Spencer muttered.  
  
“I know.” Derek nodded.  
  
“I didn’t tell.” He smiled awkwardly as he fell into step beside the other.  
  
“Me either.” He said, frowning. He paused, and took several steps backwards, bringing himself level with a notice board. Spencer noticed a few steps later he was alone, looked dejected for a moment and then realised he hadn’t been abandoned and came back to join the other man. “I think I know how everyone knows.” He said, pulling a poster down off the board.  
  
Spencer peered at it; ‘SPOTTED:’ it declared in an overused font, above a photograph of Spencer and Derek locked in a serious make out session against a fall at Emily’s dorm the previous night, ‘HOT JOCK’S GAY ROMP WITH NON-HOT NERD’.  
  
Derek balled the paper into a ball, throwing it deftly into the nearest waste bin and continuing down the corridor towards the door out onto the busy campus. Spencer shifted the books in his arms, watching the floor in front of him and feeling entirely awkward.  
  
“Put your books away, Spence.” Derek said.  
  
“Huh?” he sounded, glancing at the darker man. Derek merely raised his eyebrows, so Reid fumbled with his messenger bag, his books only just fitting in.  
  
As they fell back into step beside each other, Spencer felt Derek’s hand grab his. He swallowed to mask his gasp and ended up coughing, but he didn’t pull away, instead letting their hands slot together in a most pleasant way.  
  
“For the record,” Derek said, flashing a smile and a cheery wave as they passed several of his former football team mates who were staring open-mouthed at the two men holding hands, “you’re the hottest nerd I know.”


	10. playdate (hotch/jj)

The sound of each of their sons giggling filled the still summer air as Hotch returned to the table with a fresh jug of orange drink.  
  
“They’re playing sea monsters.” JJ informed him, gesturing at Jack and Henry splashing about in the few inches of water in the inflatable paddling pool on Hotch’s lawn.  
  
“Aah.” Hotch grinned, pouring liquid into their glasses and the two plastic cups empty on the table. “He went on a field trip to an aquarium on Wednesday. Everything since then has been fish and sharks and ‘monsters’.”  
  
“Henry is into pirates, no wonder they’re having such a good time.”  
  
As if on cue, JJ’s very blonde son lifted his arm above his head with a battle cry of ‘arrrr!’ and moved in for the attack on the invisible monster in the paddling pool.  
  
“That’s Will’s fault,” she elaborated, “he has this whole collection of old swashbuckling movies. He was so disappointed last Halloween when Henry didn’t want to dress up as a pirate, but now he’s completely obsessed. I guess kids cycle through these things.”  
  
“Yeah.” Hotch agreed. “Superheroes, cops, dinosaurs. Actually dinosaurs evolve into sea monsters quite well.”  
  
As they smiled and watched their children play together in the sunshine, neither needed to elaborate on their thoughts; their kids were fighting monsters in their imagination while every day their parents fought real ones.


	11. renaissance faire

“Here I am, surrounded by maidens,” the man said, “but you’re the fairest thing here.”  
  
Spencer blushed and grinned, casting his eyes up and down his partner’s form. He should have guessed what Morgan had intended to surprise him with when he’d worn a tee-shirt with a shield design on it, but when they’d pulled up at the renaissance faire he’d been completely surprised. He hadn’t even mentioned it, because he was pretty sure Morgan wouldn’t want to go, because he was neither a fan of the time period or people who dressed in costume for such things.  
  
Morgan offered his hand, and when Reid took it he lifted it to his mouth, planting a kiss on the back of it. They fell into step beside each other, wandering around the stalls and stands and installations in the park that had been transformed into a historical village for the faire.  
  
“Where to first?” Morgan said, grinning at the other man. “We can do whatever you like. I won’t even leave you if you want to dress up.”  
  
“I’d like to try metalwork again. I made a small dagger a few years ago, but I think my technique should be better, I’ve read a lot more on 15th century metalwork since then.”  
  
“Of course you have.” Morgan chuckled.  
  
“You could try archery.” Spencer offered. “Or sword fighting. Or axe throwing. Or something else where you get to damage things.”  
  
“You know me so well, baby.”  
  
“And you know me.” Spencer said, squeezing his hand and smiling as a court jester danced past them. “Thank you for bringing me here.”  
  
“Anything for you, my liege.” Derek said with a flourish, even as he noticed a lute player heading their away.


	12. thirteen times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> features male pregnancy

“If you ever use this out of context I will kill you,” Morgan said, “but I can’t get it up.”  
  
“What?” Reid whined, wigging his rear as he peered back at his lover. He was on all fours, his huge pregnant belly below him, his skin flushed pink across his rear and the back of his thighs. “Don’t you want me?”  
  
“Baby I do,” Morgan said, giving himself a few half-hearted strokes, “but I’m tired. I’ve got you off twelve times. We’ve been here for hours.”  
  
“Thirteen.” Reid corrected.  
  
“Thirteen times, baby. We never did it that much in a night when we first started sleeping together.”  
  
“Derek, please.” Spencer said. He wasn’t above begging, not when his hormones had been so wild that he was almost perpetually aroused. “I need you in me.”  
  
“I can’t, baby. Even if I could manage another hard on-”  
  
“You’ve only had eight ejaculations-”  
  
“Only! I came practically dry on the last one!” Morgan gestured in exasperation. “Even if I could manage to get it up again, my dick’s gonna chafe.”  
  
Reid groaned in frustration, hiding his head in his arms.  
  
“I’m really aroused.” He mumbled.  
  
“I can see that.”  
  
“I don’t want you looking at me if you’re not going to help me.” he huffed. Morgan fought back a chuckle, trying not t grin too wide lest he got caught. Spencer’s temper had been a lot shorter in the last few months, but it was never very threatening because he was more liable to sulk like a child than start actual arguments.  
  
“Sweet baby,” Derek murmured, sliding up beside his partner and stroking a hand over his lower back, “you need to rest.”  
  
“I need to orgasm.” He corrected, but uneasily rolled himself onto his side, collapsing heavy on the bed.  
  
“I know, but you’re sore.”  
  
“Of course I’m sore, I’m the size of a small whale.”  
  
“I meant your ass is sore.” Morgan said, spooning himself behind the other man. “I’m not gonna help make it worse.”  
  
“Sometimes you’re way too protective.” Spencer muttered, but he finally seemed to be calming down. “I’m mad at you.”  
  
“No you’re not.” Derek chuckled, kissing the man’s shoulder as he let his hand wander over the warm expanse of belly in front of Spencer.  
  
“Yes I am. It’s your fault I’m like this.”  
  
“Oh no, you can’t pin that on me. It takes two bakers for that bun.”  
  
“Actually in that analogy I’m the oven. And I maintain it’s your fault.” Reid said, smiling as Morgan’s fingertips traced around his navel.  
  
“Okay pretty boy,” Derek conceded, “it’s all my fault. And I’m only a little bit sorry. Sorry you’re horny all the time and sorry you look like a turtle when you try to get out of bed.”  
  
Spencer shoved his elbow back into the other’s chest, but it was half-hearted and Derek could see the smile pulling at his mouth.


	13. funeral

“She didn’t want to be buried.” Reid said, rubbing his hands over his face.  
  
“Reid.” Morgan’s voice was gentle as he undid the man’s tie.  
  
“She wanted to be cremated. She should have been cremated.”  
  
“Her family made the arrangements. It was their decision.”  
  
“It wasn’t what she wanted.” Reid let his hands drop to his side, fists clenching and unclenching.  
  
“I know.” Morgan nodded, pulling Reid’s tie from around his neck.  
  
“We shouldn’t-” Reid faltered, screwed his eyes closed for a second; when he opened them he couldn’t meet Morgan’s gaze. “We shouldn’t of had to carry her corpse. That’s not what she wanted. It should have been a cremation.”  
  
Morgan was steady as Reid fell forward, burying his face in the older agent’s chest, balling his fists in the material of his dark shirt. Morgan inhaled and exhaled slowly through his nose, putting his hands on the other’s back in what he hoped was a reassuring way as tears soaked through fabric to his skin and Reid let out a shuddering breath.  
  
“Spencer…” Morgan didn’t have words for him, but he wasn’t sure words would be enough.


	14. daily routines

Their routine had developed quickly after Morgan’s house became their home, with Reid having moved in after being discharged from hospital post-Anthrax. They both liked to lie in bed of a morning, but when they had to get up for work Morgan always rose first, after kissing the nearest part of Reid’s skin and peeling himself away from the other’s warm flesh. He’d pull the covers away a little, forcing the other man to feel the cold morning air before padding through into the bathroom to pee, strip off his boxers if he was wearing them (he often didn’t, depending on events the previous night), and turn the shower on.   
  
By the time he’d climbed into the shower Reid would have echoed his action in a much groggier fashion, stepping into the shower and lolling against Morgan’s chest as the hot water beat down on them, complaining into his shoulder about it being too early. His shorter hair meant that Derek could indulge one of his delights and wash his hair, as Spencer slowly woke up. Eventually he’d be awake enough to run his hands over Morgan’s body, lathering him up and trying to coax him into some kind of sex act before they left the shower. It worked more often than it didn’t.  
  
They’d get out, get dry, and throw on a few bits of clothing before heading to the kitchen. Clooney would be waiting by the back door to be let out, and whoever wasn’t making breakfast would oblige and feed him. Before they lived together Reid hadn’t been good at feeding himself in the mornings, but change had been good for him; whether it was toast and cereal or bagels or eggs, Derek made sure they both had something to set them up for the day.  
  
They ate and talked, and Morgan checked his e-mails as Reid usually sifted through papers. Whoever cooked always made sure not to use anything that couldn’t be put in the dishwasher, and then they went to finish getting dressed. Reid’s hair would be practically dry, and Morgan wouldn’t be able to resist running his hands through the curls as they brushed their teeth, grinning and pulling faces in the mirror at each other.  
  
They took up guns and badges, socks and shoes, and Reid raided the cupboard for something to snack on later. Morgan always drove, and they always stopped to grab coffee before they reached Quantico. One last kiss in the car always came before work, even if they were in a rush; savouring the last of their morning routine before whatever the BAU had in store for them.


	15. as my boss

“How are things with Morgan?” Hotch asked, glancing from Reid who looked up from his book around at the rest of the team sleeping in various places and positions on the plane.

“Are you asking as my boss,” Reid said slowly, lowering his book, “or as my friend?”

“Both.” He reasoned.

“Things are fine.” He said, frowning a little. “Are you concerned about us?”

Hotch paused, clearly trying to work out what to say.

“Not concerned.” He said finally. “Not specifically, anyway. I’m always concerned that a relationship between colleagues means you’ll have difficulty with separating work and home.”

“You think our relationship is affecting how we do our jobs?” Reid’s brow was creased, the grip on his book tightened.

“No.” Hotch shook his head. “I’m more concerned about the job affecting your private life.”

Realisation dawned on Reid; Hotch didn’t need to mention how things had gone with Haley prior to her death for the other to realise that was the train of thought he had.

“Actually I think being in a relationship with someone who understands what you see every day makes it easier. I don’t feel like I have to mask what I do to protect the other person. We share motivations and schedules which are often points of conflict in romantic relationships.”

“So you don’t think the job is going to affect your relationship?”

“If anything,” Reid said evenly, “I think our shared experiences from a strong base for our relationship.”

“Good.” Hotch nodded.

Reid held Morgan’s eye contact for a little while longer, then with a remaining crease in his brow lifted his book again, glancing up at Hotch briefly, whose gaze had shifted to the window of the jet.


End file.
